Requiem for Snow
by RedCoat79
Summary: Raoul de Chagny has made a decision that has changed everything he had ever hoped for when his beloved Christine left with Erik, he was certian that nothing would ever be right again. But Raoul's story is far from over.
1. Chapter 1

Raoul stared blankly out of the window the carriage, not really seeing the passing countryside as he rested his head against the glass. The only sound was the creak of the carriage and the sounds of the reigns of the horses. Raoul shut his eyes and swallowed. How long had it been? A week? Two weeks? He could not say. It must have been at least two, he told himself. He judged this from the last time he looked in a mirror, earlier this morning. There was only a faint redness encircling his neck. When asked about it, he usually replied that he had slept on it wrong.

It had been the hardest thing he had ever done, that night down in the cellar of the opera house. In that split second that had done this to him – in that second he had turned and told Erik to take Christine and run. He still didn't know why he had done it. He didn't know why he'd not done as Erik had asked him to do. Part of him wished he had, that same part hated himself for not doing it, and at the same time, hated himself for even thinking of doing it.

When the mob had reached the lair, Raoul had remembered looking up from where he sat on the stairs. He knew that he probably had looked like something from a nightmare. He knew his face and eyes were red. They had searched the entire place before he had found the courage and the strength to speak. He said that they were gone. That they had vanished before he even got to this place. And the company, the police, even little Meg Giry had believed him. They didn't even think to question him further.

Raoul knew he couldn't explain why or what he did. He couldn't even understand it himself. He opened his eyes and leaned back in his seat.

It had also been his idea to leave Paris. He needed time away from a place that held so many memories. If he could just distract himself for a while, just a little while, then he could face the pain when he was ready to do so. With his parents abroad, it would also be in his best interest to spend time on the family estate, overseeing the affairs there. The Norman countryside was so green this time of year, not at all like he had seen it last fall, when it was turning brown and preparing to sleep. Raoul managed a very weak smile and a small wave to some children as they passed a tenant's house. The children had straightened up and waved at back him as he passed.

Raoul wondered if they were all right, Christine and Erik. If they were safe, if they were together. The answer to both were more than likely yes. Like him, they had probably left Paris, or were well hidden within it.

The gossip in Paris had made staying there a nightmare in it's own way. The police were still searching for Erik and the assumed abducted Christine Daee. Raoul knew that they would never be found, not unless they let it happen. He gave Erik enough credit to know that the man was _that _clever.

Raoul ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat as the carriage circled around a drive and came to a halt. From the window he could see a better part of the staff waiting for him. He swung the door open and stepped down to the drive.

"Thank you for this welcome. It is fine to be home and very wonderful to see you all in the best of health." He crossed up to the entryway, nodding at several people as he went inside. He was removing his coat and gloves and handing them to a footman when Madam Catereau, the housekeeper, came down the stairs. "Mi'lord, welcome home."

"Thank you, Madam Catereau. It is indeed good to be home. I had not planned on coming home before the autumn, but I felt it was best if I returned."

"Of course sir. Is there anything you require?"

"Not at the moment. I will have dinner in my chamber tonight. I will be inspecting things tomorrow, after I've rested."

"Of course sir. Are lordship's parents to be expected soon as well?"

"Not until October, if then, Madam. My last message from them came from New Orleans."

"Yes, sir."

"That will be all, thank you Madam."

"Yes, sir." The woman turned and went up the corridor as Raoul turned and climbed the stairs. Once he reached his room, he shut the door, turned and sighed. As far as anyone here knew, the reason he looked the way he did was from the trip and that he was tired. He crossed to the window and opened it. The rich smell of lilac and gardenias floated up to him from the garden below.

It would get easier. He told himself this nearly every hour. Each day it would be come easier and easier to handle. Soon, he would be able to move forward, and then, perhaps, he could understand why he did what he did. And perhaps there would be no pain.

Raoul stared down at the faint bruise son his wrists where the rope had bound him to the portcullis. All wounds eventually healed, it was just that some took longer than others. He swallowed and closed his eyes. He willed himself not to weep. Tears would do nothing, they would change nothing. A sharp knock on the door caused him to jump slightly. "Yes?"

A housemaid opened the door. "Begging your pardon, but Monsieur Montmaneru is here to see you."

Raoul stared blankly at the girl for a moment, and then realization came to him. "Of course, thank you." He exited the room and came to the stairs and looked down. "Pierre, I thought you were in Austria." He smiled as he came down to greet his friend from school.

"I thought you were in Paris. I was glad to hear you'd come back." Pierre Montmaneru was slightly taller than Raoul, with dark hair and grey eyes. "You feeling all right, my friend?"

"Tired from the journey." He walked into the drawing room and Pierre followed. "I must be getting old, that trip seems longer every time I take it."

"Did that trip ever seem short?" Pierre said, shutting the door behind him, laughing.

"I suppose not. Do you want anything to drink?"

"No, no, I'm fine." Pierre stood in front of a chair, his hands resting on the back. "I heard you were engaged."

"I was." Raoul swallowed and looked away from his friend. "I was engaged, but I am not... engaged now... she ah... I suppose..."

"Let me guess..." Pierre pursed his lips. "She was in love with someone else."

"Yes. But if she is happy, then I am happy for her."

Pierre laughed. "Still the same noble Raoul, aren't you?"

"Old habits die hard, my friend." Raoul said as he sat down. "And how have you been?"

"For the most part, rather well. I canceled my trip to Austria. I had... more pressing matters here."

"You've wanted to go to Austria since we were boys, Pierre. What's wrong?" Raoul leaned forward as his friend sat down. Whatever was going on his life, Raoul had the feeling that Pierre had a greater problem.

"Do you remember Gustave Ledux?"

Raoul thought for a moment. "Yes. I remember him from school. I couldn't stand him then. I doubt if I would care for his company now. There was something... something wrong about him."

"You mean aside from the fact that he is the most selfish bastard ever to be my misfortune to know?"

"What does Ledux have to do with you, Pierre? We made a habit of avoiding both him and his company a long time ago. I thought he was in Monte Carlo, or somewhere like that..."

"He was. I'm not worried about myself, Raoul. It's someone else I'm worried about. Ledux has a huge debt, I know that. I've looked into it... I've heard about it, it's all the gossips around here talk about. And that's not all they talk about."

Raoul leaned forward on his arm. "What's he done?"

"I don't know the sordid details, but I know for a fact that he was thrown out of a brothel in Monte Carlo for beating a girl."

"My God..." Raoul shook his head. "What does this have to do..."

"It's not me, Raoul. That... filth." Pierre spat the word. "Has been watching my sister far to closely."

"Your sister? Amelie?"He thought for a moment. "Your sister is only sixteen." Raoul felt revolted. "She's barely past being a child."

"I know that. I also know that my father is old and that he cares more for a man's outward appearance than what he really is."

"Can't you reason with your father?"

"He says I should not be so quick to judge a man. I had my full estimate of what sort of person Gustave was when I was fourteen."

Raoul stood and crossed to the window, his hands behind his back. "Do you have any idea on what you are going to do?"

Pierre stood up slowly. "There's only one thing that can be done." He crossed to his friend and looked out the window. "Do you remember my sister?"

"Of course. I've not seen her in almost a year, but she is a very sweet natured girl."

"That she is."

"Your sister is not in love with Ledux, is she?"

"No, the only person my sister is in love with, if you can call it that, is Mr. Darcy from _Pride and Prejudice._"

Raoul laughed. "I suppose that's a blessing, in a way."

"I suppose." Pierre shook his head. "Raoul, I have no doubt that my father can be persuaded into letting Ledux marry my sister. It's only a matter of time. Should that happen, he probably has enough unsavory friends to keep me from attending the service to prevent the marriage from taking place."

Raoul turned and looked at his friend and saw something in his face, something that he could not place. There was a look of mixed hope and fear. He cleared his throat. "Pierre, what are you thinking?"

"The only way to spare my sister the nightmare that Ledux would make of her life is to find someone else who would save her from that nightmare. Trust me, if I could do it, I would."

"Pierre?"

"I can't save Amelie, not completely." Pierre set a hand on Raoul's shoulder. "If you... don't wish to... I will understand... I mean, you are probably not in any shape to think on something like this..."

Raoul turned to him. "You want me to marry your sister?"

"I understand if you don't want to..."

Raoul turned his gaze to the window. His heart had turned to ice that night by the lake, he had not expected to do anything pertaining to love in a very long time. "It can't be to sudden, Pierre. Ledux will suspect something."

"It's May. There is time."

"True. I doubt my parents would object to the union. But I suppose I should spend some time with your sister before... well, before I do ask her."

"Then you'll do it?" Pierre raised his head. "You'd do this for me?"

"Yes. I will." Raoul crossed the room "Did anyone else, other than you, know that I was engaged previously?"

"Some people did, you know how things are here." Pierre turned from the window. "Gossip is the only thing that keeps some people going. It was a subject for a short while, but no one really believed it. Once news came from Monte Carlo about Ledux, anything else seemed minor."

"It's appalling that no one else has thought to do anything."

"He's not done anything here that would warrant that." He sighed and went across the room. "You should come to dinner tomorrow. It is a start."

"Agreed. It would be best if this did not seem planned." Raoul went to a table on which a decanter of brandy stood and poured two glasses.

"Raoul, are you all right?"

"It was a long journey and I haven't been feeling as well as I would like to – it must be the changing of the seasons or something similar."

"I completely understand. The journey to Paris only seems short when you sleep. There's talk of them building a train depot here."

"That would help – such are the days in which we live."

Pierre picked up one of the glasses and brandy and took a sip. "How can I ever thank you for doing this?"

"No thanks is needed, Pierre." Raoul took a taste of his own drink. "We all have things we must do in this world. Sometimes what we want is not what we need, and what we need is something we did not know we wanted."

Pierre thought for a moment and then nodded. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes." Raoul took another sip of his drink and ran a hand through his hair. He had a feeling he was going to be answering that question several times before the summer was out. "I'm afraid your sister will find me to be nothing like Mr. Darcy, however."

They both laughed.

"No you're not... you're real." Pierre drained his glass.

Raoul set his own glass down. "Are you certain you want me to do this?"

"There is no one I would trust more. It will be good in the end, you will see."

"I hope so, Pierre, I hope so." Raoul turned his gaze back to the window. "Are you going to tell your sister what you're planning?"

"No. I don't want her to know. She does know, however, that our father wants her married before she turns eighteen. "

"That's a year and several months hence, yes?"

"Twelve months from December ninth." Pierre pulled his gloves from his pocket. "I should be headed home, there have been reports of bandit attacks in the woods as of late."

Raoul nodded and walked his friend outside. "Until tomorrow then, my good friend."

Pierre reigned his horse. "Until tomorrow, and thank you..." He turned the horse and, as Raoul stepped back, he went down the road.

Raoul watched until his friend disappeared around a bend before turning around and headed back into the house. He had things he wanted to get finished before he retired for the night.

Amelie was waiting in the library doorway when her brother came into their home. "Pierre? Where were you?"

"I went to the Chagny estate."

"Are they back already? I thought they were in the Americas."

"No, Raoul has returned from Paris. His parents are not expected until the autumn."

"Oh. Has he returned to go to Austria with you?"

"I'm not going to Austria, Amelie – not just yet. I have... other things to do first."

"You don't need to worry about me so, Pierre."

Pierre went to his sister and kissed her forehead. "You're my little sister. It's one of my duties to worry about you."

"Father can take care of me just as well as you can, Pierre."

"I know Ame, I know. But I promised our mother before she died that I would look after you. I can go to Austria next summer."

"It must be nice to be able to travel whenever you want. I'm rarely allowed into the village."

"Perhaps someday you will travel as well..."

"I would like that... but the way you guard me..."

"Amelie Daphne Montmaneru, you sound just like our mother when you say things like that."

Amelie laughed. "Go change for dinner, Pierre. You know we can't come to the table with dirty hands."

"How many times are you going to remind me to wash my hands?" Pierre laughed as he went to the stairs.

"Until you're married and you have a wife to do it for me." She went back into the library, laughing.

Pierre paused at the top of the stairs and looked down at the now closed library door. "It will be sooner than that..." He smiled. "But I shall greatly miss it." Pierre went into his room to change. He was the only person whom Amelie teased. When they were young, when they would leave the nursery for dinner, it was always his sister's manner to make sure they were both ready. Even now, when he was a grown man, she often told him to go wash his hands before dinner.

When he came into the dinning room, his sister and father were already waiting for him. "Sorry to keep you."

Antoine Montmaneru glanced at his son. "It is all right Pierre. We've only just sat down."

As they started to eat, Pierre looked up from his plate. "Raoul de Chagny is back from Paris."

"Is he?" Antoine cut into a piece of chicken. "I thought he was going to be staying there for some time."

"His plans have apparently changed. I've invited him to dinner tomorrow."

"How nice." Amelie picked up her wine glass. "It will be nice to have company."

"Yes." Antoine looked from his daughter to his son. "Surprised you aren't going to Austria, son."

"I can go next year. I would like to spend some more time at home, now that I am finished with college."

Amelie keep her eyes on her plate. "You can go ahead and go, Pierre. We'll be fine here, won't we father?"

"Of course. If you keep putting it off, Pierre, you'll never go. That's why I always regret not going to Rome when I was your age."

"You wanted to go to Rome, father?"

"Yes, Amelie, I did. Back when I was your brother's age. I stayed here instead and missed out on the adventure. I decided then I would go in two years, but after those years had passed, well, Pierre was a newborn, and I could not leave him and your mother." He went back to eating.

"How was your day, sister?"

"It was all right. I read some, cut some flowers for the house. It looks as if it will be a lovely summer."

"That would be pleasant. It was so hot last summer... and far to cold this winter."

"There was a mass of clouds forming in the sky when I came home, it will most likely rain tonight. We could use some rain."

"That we could." Antoine wiped his mouth and set his napkin down. "If you will excuse me, I have some things to do before I retire."

"Good night, father." Amelie set her fork down.

"Good night Amelie, Pierre." Antoine left the dining room and walked to his study.

"Is something the matter with father?"

"I think he has a lot on his mind, sister. He's also not as young as he once was."

"He's not that old, is he?"

"No, not so much – but he's getting older, you know that."

"The way you talk, Pierre you'd think he was seventy."

"I know, I know... Don't worry, there's nothing for you to be concerned about."

"If you say so, Pierre." Amelie went back to eating.

Pierre rose and checked the doors into the hallway and the other into the service corridor, finding them both empty, he shut the doors tightly. "Was he here again today?"

Amelie dropped her fork, startled. "Who?"

"You know who I'm talking about, was he here again?"

"Pierre... Monsieur Ledux was only here for a little while..."

Pierre cursed silently. "I do not care for that man."

"What makes you think I do?" Amelie was horrified.

"I know, sister, I know. But our father, on the other hand, does not see beyond the surface sometimes."

"Why are you so worried about him? Has he done something wrong?"

"You know what they say about him, Amelie. If I could, I wouldn't have him in the same country as you."

"There's nothing for you to worry about... it's not like he's asked to speak to father privately, or anything."

"That you know of." Pierre shot back at her. "You don't know what he's capable of – even I don't know all of that."

Amelie stood up. "I'm glad your concerned, but why would father force me to do something I wouldn't want to do?"

"Has he asked you to do something?"

"No." Amelie stepped back from the table. The expression on her brother's face scared her. "Why? Why do you look like that?"

"I am merely concerned... Ledux... he's not..." Pierre stood from the table and came around to his sister. He took her face in his hands. "He is unworthy of you. I do not care what father says. I say Ledux is."

"Pierre, you're frightening me."

"Don't be scared." He smiled as he withdrew his hands. "I think I'm a little tired myself. Good night Amelie."

"Good night, Pierre."

When Amelie withdrew to her room, she sat down by the window and opened it. The air was heavy with the scent of rain and there was a rumble of thunder. She rested against the wall, staring out at the dark grounds. She didn't want admit to her brother that she was frightened of Gustave Ledux. She was afraid of him doing something rash and causing more trouble than it was worth. She pulled back her sleeve and stared at her arm where a dark bruise was visible.

Amelie touched it with her fingers, whimpering. She hadn't told her father about the incident earlier that day when Gustave had come by. It had probably been an accident when Gustave had taken her arm. He hadn't meant to hurt her. As much as her brother would talk about not letting Gustave near her, her brother was not omnipresent. It was only a matter of time before something happened that prevented Pierre from taking care of her.

The thunder rumbled again and the rain began to fall, a steady, hard, cool rain. Amelie lifted her head and closed the window. After changing into her nightdress, she carefully searched her room, expecting to find something or someone who wouldn't be there. Under the desk, under the wardrobe, she even looked under her bed, like a little child. "It's not like I'm going to find anything..." It was strange, but ever since she turned nearly two years ago, she searched her room in this manner before she went to sleep. She put out the light and climbed into bed. As she pulled the covers up to her chin, she stared towards the window again. "There's nothing for me to be scared of – there's nothing here that can't hurt me..."

Downstairs, Antoine looked over a few documents when a knock on the door caused him to look up. "Come."

Pierre opened the door. "Father?"

"What is it Pierre?" Antoine went back to the document he was holding.

"I'm worried about Ame."

"You're always worried about her. There's nothing to worry about."

"Perhaps. But there are a lot of dangerous people in this world, and she knows so little of those sorts of people."

"The way you speak, Pierre, you would think we were about to live in the streets."

"I think it must be my nature to worry, father."

"That it is..." Antoine looked up from the paper. "Did you have a reason for inviting the viscount to dinner tomorrow?"

"He is an old friend of mine, father. And he is our neighbor."

"You can be hospitable when you choose."

"Where you not the one who told me that we are judged by the company that we keep?"

"That I was. And I am glad that you remember it."

"I don't think I could forget, even if I wanted to."

"Wasn't the viscount engaged a while ago.. I heard something about that..."

"Ah, he was. The plans there have changed. I didn't not wish to press him for details."

"That is a shame, I think Amelie would have enjoyed some female companionship."

"Is this going to evolve into another discussion of how I am not yet married, father?"

"No... we'll be going to Paris this winter, I'm certain there will be plenty of girls at the parties this year that you might take a fancy to."

Pierre laughed. "So it is about me, isn't it?"

"Oh, perhaps I would just like to see you happily married before I die, son."

"You're to young to think about that."

"Time moves much faster when you reach my age. You will find that out." Antoine folded the letter he was holding. "You should get some rest." He tucked the letter into a drawer and stood. "And so should I." He went past his son and left the room.

Pierre went and turned out the lamp, casting the room into darkness. Then he too left the room and retired.

Several miles away, Raoul lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep seemed so impossible tonight. For a while, he merely listened to the rain splashing against the glass of his window. While it felt very good to be home, the feeling inside of him had not changed. It was as if he was empty, with nothing to drive him forward through the night and into the next day. He was going through the motions of living, deceiving those around him into thinking he was all right.

He was still not entirely sure why he was going to help Pierre. It seemed, wrong, somehow to move onward so quickly. To just go forward and not let the pain completely sink into him. But Raoul knew that if he did not move forward, his grief and heartbreak would destroy him. It had started to destroy him the moment he had sent Christine and Erik away.

Raoul was still not entirely sure how he came back to the house in Paris that night, when he got there, or what he said. It was like a great blur in his mind. He remembered leaving before most of the mob did. He had the vague memory of collapsing against the seat of the carriage, willing himself not to weep. His next clear memory was waking the next morning, his throat sore and his eyes were bloodshot.

He turned onto his side, the cool linen seemed to turn instantly warm under his cheek. _I must be mad. _

Raoul took a deep breath and sighed. There had to be an easier way to let go... to move forward. _I could do something... there has to be someway..._ He rose from the bed and went to his dressing table. He set his hand on the frame that was face down on the wood. Taking a deep breath he picked it up and turned it over.

Christine's likeness stared back at him, looking up at him with those beautiful, gentle eyes.

Raoul squeezed his eyes shut, but it did not stop the tears from escaping and slipping down his face. When he opened his eyes, he saw that several drops had fallen on the portrait. All he wanted to do was set the picture back up and stare at it for the rest of the night, and so what if he wept? _I have every right to weep. Had I done as I had been asked, Erik would certainly weep in my stead._

He raised his head and walked resolutely to the fireplace. He removed the portrait from its frame. He set the frame on the mantle place and then, taking one last look at the picture, he took a deep breath and tossed it onto the flames.

Raoul leaned against the mantle, watching the image burn. Moving forward was a long process, he knew that. It had been that way for him and his parents when his elder brother had died when he was sixteen. Raoul had only been eight years old at the time. Neither letting go or moving forward was something one could do all at once, but tonight – tonight was the beginning.

As he got back into bed, Raoul sniffed once and then took a deep breath. Tomorrow night would be another step in moving forward.

_The wounds on the heart run the deepest and last the longest._

It was very true. But for now, it was time to think about the future. There would be a time for healing when the time was right.


	2. Chapter 2

It continued to rain into the next evening. During the course of the day, Amelie had given up any hope of making the bruise on her arm look non-existent. If anything, the things she tried only seemed to make it appear she was trying to hide something. "I should just stop avoiding it and tell someone what happened." The powder she had tried last had been the worst. It made her look as if her arm was stained with a large spot of milk. She resolved to just keep her hand in her lap as much as she could, and pray that no one noticed the mark. She shook her head and stood up and smoothed out the skirt of her dress. Looking in the mirror one more time she managed a brave smile before walking to the door of her room and heading out into the hallway. As much as she craved company, part of Amelie dreaded it. She was always reluctant to speak, and when she did speak, she was rarely taken seriously. Then there was the fact that she was hardly ever spoken to or invited into a conversation, even when it was about her.

Amelie had done her best to hide her emotions last night when Pierre had told her that Raoul de Chagny was back from Paris. As sad as it was, a tiny part of her was glad that he _wasn't _going to be married. It was a wicked feeling, but it made her smile slightly. It was wrong to delight in someone's misfortune. The first time she had met her neighbor that she could remember, she had been five years old. He was seven years her senior and he and Pierre had talked of nothing but school the entire time. She could remember watching him and very swiftly developing a mad crush on him.

Amelie would have been mortified if anyone had ever found out, so she kept it to herself. It had never gone away, not when she saw him at age seven, at age ten, or even last summer when she had been fifteen. But Amelie, for all the books she read and all the dreams she had, knew that it was foolish to even think about such a thing as Raoul de Chagny noticing her as more than Pierre's little sister. That was, if he ever noticed her at all.

As she stood at the top of the stairs, looking downward into the hall, she could see that he had not changed much in the past year. But that assessment changed as she came closer. There was a certain look in his face, something that hadn't been there last October. He looked changed, somehow. There was still that very boyish look about his face, but it was in his eyes – still so blue one could think they reflected the sky - his eyes were what had changed. They had darkened, lost that carefree, youthful look. Something had destroyed it, so that he no longer looked as if he was a mere twenty-two, but much older.

Amelie took a deep breath and she neared the bottom of the stairs. Why couldn't she be confident and strong like her mother had been? Why couldn't she be the way she wanted to be – why was she feeling like a little girl and not a young woman? She put on a brave face and came to the door of the drawing room. It wasn't as if she expected to have any deep conversations with Raoul.

"Ah, there you are Amelie. I was beginning to think you weren't coming to dinner." Pierre said, grinning.

Raoul turned and smiled. "Don't tease her Pierre."

Amelie blushed. "Good... good evening, Raoul. And Pierre, please don't tease me."

"And good evening to you, Amelie."

"I don't tease you very often, sister."

"I have a feeling you tease her at least once a day." Raoul said, his smile starting to become a little more certain. His mood was starting to feel uplifted, more than it had in a while.

"It's true he does..." Amelie said with a laugh.

"Well, he is your brother..." Raoul shrugged. "But teasing you everyday... that's a bit much, wouldn't you say?"

"Enough." Pierre said, laughing. "I'm no match for the two of you together."

"What are you talking about, brother? You're no match for me alone. Did you remember to wash your hands?"

Raoul laughed as his friend spluttered. "Well, you can't expect him not to try."

"That wasn't funny, Amelie, and yes, I did wash my hands." Pierre shook his head.

"What's not funny?" Antoine came into the room.

"It's nothing, father." Pierre said, coughing.

"Good evening, Raoul... back from Paris then?" Antoine sat down heavily in a chair.

"Yes, monsieur. I had been planning on coming home much later than this, but circumstances being what they are, I felt it was best for me to be here."

Amelie sat in her chair, watching the conversation, her hands resting in her lap. Why had Raoul come back from Paris so early? Was it just because his engagement had ended? That was probably it. It must be a devastating feeling, having love just die like that. If there was love, that is. So many relationships were never based on love, but on duty. Love was something that came to you, not something that happened at first sight, no matter what books told her.

"I'd like to go to Paris more often, but I'm not one for that journey. Unless it's by train. Of course, the trip to Cholet sometimes seems daunting, despite it being a mere seven miles away. They're planning on running a direct line from here to Paris. I don't the government can be dissuaded on it. I for one, think it's a decent idea. A shame it won't be completed when we head into Pairs for a trip in the winter."

"At the rate the railroad is expanding, it won't be long before one can board a train in Paris and depart in Beijing."

"True, Pierre, though I believe not many people would want to make a journey like that." Raoul thought for a moment. "I know I would not. Perhaps Constantinople, but not Beijing."

"Constantinople is a journey all on it's own." Antoine said. "And that is a journey best done going through the Mediterranean. Much more enjoyable that way. It was quite enjoyable to travel that way to Rome several years ago."

"You've been to Athens, Monsieur Montmaneru?"

"Yes. Pierre and I both went to Rome and throughly enjoyed it. Amelie wanted to come, but it was not to be."

All three men turned and looked at Amelie. She had not been listening to the conversation, so she was caught off-guard. "Yes?"

"Nothing, sister." Pierre turned to his friend. "Your parents are in the Americas. That must be quite a daunting journey."

"It was, I received a telegram from them this morning. They are still in New Orleans, but are planning on heading back to France shortly."

"How long of a journey is that, these days?"

"About a month, Pierre. But I believe they are going to stop at several of the islands on the way home."

"It must be dreadfully hot there this time of year." Pierre sighed. "Pleasant in the Winter, more than likely, but a tropical climate in the Summer is more than likely unbearable."

There was a knock on the door and a manservant entered. "Dinner is served."

"Thank you." Antoine rose and went out past the man.

As the rest of the group stood, Raoul turned to Amelie. "May I escort you to dinner, Amelie?"

"Thank you." Amelie knew she was blushing again as she set her hand on the offered arm. As they left the room, neither of them saw the smile that graced Pierre's face.

Conversation at dinner that night consisted of more talk of travel, something that Amelie did not ever expect to do in her life. The only place she ever wanted to see was St. Petersburg. Why her brother had put off his trip to Vienna, she still did not know. Even though she knew he was worried about Gustave doing something to her, she wasn't letting herself give into her own fears of what he might do to her.

During the course of the meal, Raoul had been studying Amelie without making it appear to obvious. She was, by most accounts, a pretty girl. Unlike her brother, who had dark hair, hers was light shade of amber. Her eyes weren't gray, but a clear hazel. More than anything, he noticed how young she appeared. True, she was just coming out of childhood and into being a woman, but there was a wonderful, beautiful, innocent look about her.

An innocent look that would not always be there, but while it was – it only added to her appearance. He had turned his attention back to his plate when he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye. Amelie's left wrist was resting against the table and just visible from where he sat was a wicked looking purple bruise. How on Earth had she come by such an injury? Since it had been raining steadily all day, it could not have been caused while riding, nor was it something one could do to themselves.

Amelie caught sight of Raoul staring at her arm. She looked down and then quickly looked back at him, fearful. She abruptly pulled her arm back into her lap, her heart racing. Was he going to ask what had caused it? She couldn't lie – and this was the last place she wanted to discuss Gustave. Raoul was the last person she wanted to have noticed the bruise. Picking up her wineglass to distract her from what had happened, she caught his gaze over the rim.

Raoul said nothing and reached for his own wineglass. When he did this, Amelie saw that the thin band of exposed wrist was a distorted brown. Just as her arm was bruised, so was his wrist.

Whether he meant for her to see it or not, she did not know. Part of her wanted to know what had caused such an injury. But then, when she would not speak of hers, why would Raoul speak of his?

"Raoul, are you all right?"

"Yes, of course. I think I am still not completely recovered from the trip here."

"Understandable." Antoine said. "I think it takes at least three days to adjust from Paris to here. It's far quieter, the weather is more agreeable, and the pace is much slower."

"I know what you mean, monsieur. As nice as Paris is, it is much nicer here. The calm is quite enjoyable and always has been."

"If this rain keeps up, the roads are going to be impassable, even over a distance of four miles." Pierre set his fork down. "You may want to stay here tonight Raoul. It's not worth the risk of getting stranded out in the rain and the dark."

Raoul nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Amelie stared down at her plate, feeling herself shrinking. Dinner was bad enough, but the prospect of breakfast too? She hated the fact that she was so cowardly. It had been her duty to be hostess for her father and brother's guests since her mother died. She was no more confident and sixteen than she had been at ten.

The rain had tapered off into a light drizzle in Cherbourg. Tomorrow Erik and Christine would leave France and go to England. They would not be followed. Four days ago, a series of violent murders in Paris had thrown the attention off of the two of them. When they got to England, Erik was not sure what they would do, but they would stay there for a while at least. His 'salary' from being the Opera Ghost had accumulated over the years, there was more than enough to get settled in a new country.

One week ago, he and Christine had been married in a private ceremony, with only Madame Giry and the priest's housekeeper to stand as witnesses. Perhaps when they were in London, Christine could very well continue her career there. Her grasp of English was not as good as his, but as she pointed out, how many operas were written in English?

He had laughed at that. It had been the first time he had laughed in a long time. Perhaps it had been one of the first times. He would not let it be the last.

The inn they were staying in was quiet now, most people were in bed or had left for the night. Every now and then, Erik could hear the door below open and close. What they would do in England was not a concern right now. Being able to leave in peace was what he worried about.

Christine was asleep next to him, slumbering peacefully. Erik still felt a pang of guilt nearly every time he looked at her. It was so unfathomable what had happened down below the opera house. He did not know if he could despise Raoul de Chagny any more than he did one month ago. But now, things had changed. That man... the man he had tried to kill had let Christine go. How could he do such a thing? It had been in his eyes – ever since the performance of _Hannibal._ It had never left. The look may still be there.

Raoul had let her go. The one thing Erik was ready to do himself, and Raoul had done it – he had sent them both away, to face that mob alone. What sort of person was he do such a thing? Perhaps it was his way of giving in to Christine's decision.

Erik cursed softly and turned over in bed, his fingers absently playing with the curls spilled across the pillow next to his. Perhaps it was something he did not yet understand about people, for he knew so few of them well. Those that he knew well were either extremely cruel or compassionate. Raoul was someone he did not know, nor did he really want to know him better. Perhaps there would be a time when he would understand why he had let her go. Or perhaps it was that Raoul had been feeling the same as he had – and had let her go.

In the end, Raoul had accepted Christine's choice.

So why was it so bloody hard for him to accept it as well?

A loud bang right behind him caused him to jump slightly. There was a second slam and then he heard voices on the other side of the wall.

"Of course now I'm here the rain stops."

"That's the way it usually is. Why didn't you wait until tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow the roads will be choked with mud, you think I want to deal with that?"

"Given the mud around here, I suppose not."

"Besides, when I got your wire I thought I best come here as soon as possible."

"Gustave, this is a tricky venture. The chance of us dying before we even get to Indo-China is greater than us succeeding."

Gustave Ledux sat down in the chair he had put his coat on and started to unfasten his boots. "If you're worried about funding, that will be taken care of shortly."

"You're really going to go through with that? Pierre will kill you if you go near his sister. Especially if he finds out you tried to bring her here in the first place."

"Shut up, Andre. He should be in Vienna before June. By the time he comes back, what is done will be done. I doubt she'll have the courage to say anything about what I did to her... bruises heal in time."

"No, he won't." Andre Pontarcy sat down in the other chair. "I've learned he's not going to Austria. It's a fair bet he knows what you're up to, Gustave."

"Well, he can't marry his sister, and all of his friends are already married."

Andre sighed. "So what are you going to do with her?"

"Well, it's my brother's probative to carry on the family name, not that I want any brats running around anyway..."

"You know, we could just kill Pierre. That old fool only has two children, it would all go directly to her."

"That's to risky. Besides, the sort of dowry Amelie has is enough to keep me in the black for quite some time."

"That still doesn't answer what you're going to do with her."

"Take her with us, of course. It's not as if she'd be able to object."

"The environment in Indo-China will probably kill her."

"Shame really, I'd have to start paying for whores."

On the other side of the wall, Erik slipped a protective arm around Christine. These men, whoever they were, were vile. And whoever this Amelie was, God protect her.

The door in the next room slammed open again.

"Stefan!" Gustave had stood when the door had opened. His friend was soaked more than he was.

"We have a problem."

"What sort of problem?"

"You asked me to double check on all of Pierre's friends. About their status and so forth."

"And?"

"One's not married."

"Which one?" Gustave felt his color draining.

"Pierre's best friend..."

The name was cut off by Gustave's curse.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. We went to school with both of them. You know what _he _is like."

Gustave cursed again and pulled his boots back on.

"You can't go out now... the fog is rising fast!"

"I have to get back to Cholet." He pulled his coat on. "I thought he was engaged, are you sure he's not?"

"Positive. Gossips up in Paris were eating it up until all those murders started."

"Gustave, sit down... wait. It would be better if we had a plan on dealing with him before something happens we can't repair."

Erik heard another curse and two thumps, which he supposed were the man's boots.

"Go and get us something to drink. We have a lot to discuss and a not a long time to do it."

Christine stirred and turned towards Erik. "Is it time to leave all ready?"

"No... go back to sleep..." Erik closed his eyes and pulled her closer to him. "Don't worry... everything is fine."

The rain had stopped shortly after one in the morning. Amelie had woken up from a dream she couldn't remember and had adjusted her pillows when she heard something she strange. She pulled a blanket around her shoulders and went to the door of her room. When she opened it, the sound was more clear. It sounded like someone in distress.

Picking up a candle and lighting it she headed towards the sound, not entirely sure if she was not still dreaming. She stopped outside a doorway, listening. It sounded as if Raoul was having some kind of nightmare. Amelie looked up and down the corridor, almost expecting to see someone who would tell her what to do. Completely ignoring what a _proper _young lady would do, she pushed the door open and peered inside.

Raoul was thrashing across the bed, his face contorted in pain. "No... no..."

Amelie entered the room and shut the door. There was something unbearable about the look on his face. It was as if he was not scared, but suffering. Setting the candle down on the bedside table, she looked down at him as he tried to fend off an unseen enemy.

Clasping the blanket in one hand, she reached down with her free hand and timidly put it on his shoulder. "Raoul?" Her voice was barely audible.

That horrid pained was in his face again. It was a look that frightened her. What could make someone look that way? She looked at her hand on his shoulder and shook him slightly. "Raoul... Raoul wake up..."

It was the strangest dream yet. Even as Erik closed in on him ready to finish him off, he could hear someone calling him. A voice he could not place. "Wake up... Raoul, please wake up..."

The blanket had fallen off one of her shoulders, but Amelie did not notice. "Raoul, please... you're scaring me..."

Raoul sat up with a start, breathing hard. There was a small shriek next to him and he turned his head to see Amelie standing several feet from his bed. "What... what's..."

"You were having a nightmare." She tighten her grip on the blanket. "I... I wanted to make sure you were all right."

Raoul looked away from her and down at his hands. He had expected to find them crushed and bleeding, as they had been in the dream. "Was I screaming?"

"Not really... but sound can sort of carry in this corridor." She tried to smile. "I was... worried that it might not be someone dreaming... that someone was really in trouble."

Raoul ran a hand through his hair. "Thank you..." He tried to calm his breathing. "I'm going to be fine."

"Do you need anything? A drink of water or something?"

Raoul looked up at Amelie, slightly shocked. "You're actually worried, aren't you?"

"Is that wrong?"

"I'm just a little surprised..." He watched in the candlelight as she went and filled a glass of water without him asking for it. "You were rather quiet during dinner and afterwards."

"I wasn't part of the conversation, and since Paris is the farthest I've traveled, I didn't have much to say on that." She brought the glass back and handed it to him. "I'm... I'm not good at making conversation anyway."

Raoul took several gulps of water and then set it down. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She sat down on the small chair near the bed. "I know I probably shouldn't have come down here.. I mean.."

"No, no it's all right..." He ran a hand through his hair. "What time is it, do you know?"

"It's a little after one in the morning." She tucked her feet under her to keep them warm. "Are you going to be all right?"

"I'm going to be fine... it was just a dream." Raoul shook his head, his own words haunting him in his mind. _What you heard was a dream, and nothing more. _"It was just a dream..."

"I don't like bad dreams either." Amelie rubbed her nose. "It'd be nice not to ever have them."

"Agreed." He picked up the glass of water and took another sip. "And I think you're better at making conversation than you think."

"You're just being kind..."

"No, I really mean it. Here we've talked for five minutes and you didn't blush until just now."

Now Amelie could feel her cheeks burning. "Don't tease me. You're as bad as my brother."

"I'm serious, Amelie. I think you're just used to being quiet."

"Maybe..." She shrugged. "It's sort of expected of me..."

"Perhaps that will change."

"I don't think so... I mean, not until I'm married, I suppose." She sighed. "It's not like I'll have any choice about that either..."

Raoul swallowed hard as he set the glass back down. "Are you worried about that?"

"I try not to... I mean, there might be one person I wouldn't mind being told I had to marry..." Amelie knew her cheeks were still pink. "But I don't think its going to happen..."

"Why is that?"

Amelie looked at the carpet, she could not look into his face. If she looked into his face, she knew he'd see what was there. "I don't think he knows I exist. or at least, as any more than a friend's little sister." Instinct and cowardice were starting to overpower the way she was thinking. "I... I better go..." She smiled awkwardly. "I don't want to even start to think about the sort of trouble we'd both be in if someone found me in here..."

"Good night then, Amelie."

"Good night." Pulling the blanket tight around her, Amelie hurried out of the room.

Raoul heard a door shut far down the corridor and then he sighed. He rose from the bed and finished the glass of water. He was calmer now than he had been when he first had woken up. It had been a complete shock to find someone in the room with him.

Crossing to the window, he opened it and inhaled the strong scent of rain. The nightmare that had happened in the opera house was over, it was time to move forward, he had decided that last night. But he did not know if the nightmares would ever leave him. He knew that eventually, he would have to tell Amelie about what had happened.

He shut the window and turned back to the bed. It was so strange, for a few minutes Amelie had seemed like a completely different person. Raoul was used to a quieter Amelie. But there, for a few moments, she seemed almost at ease and vivacious. He shook his head and set the glass on the bedside table before getting back into bed. Leaning over, he blew out the candle and then laid back down. It would make sense that Amelie was nervous and shy around people she did not know well.

As he tucked his arm under the pillow, he recalled something else she had said.

Something about being told whom she had to marry... there was one person she wouldn't mind having to marry. But that this one person didn't even see her as more than Pierre's sister.

Pulling the blankets up Raoul had a feeling that she had let something slip that she'd not even told her brother.

Down the hall, Amelie had buried herself in her covers, trying to calm down. What had she been thinking, staying there and talking to Raoul? She had gone into his room barefooted and wearing only a nightdress covered by a blanket. If she was six years younger, it wouldn't be a problem, but she was a young lady, and it was certainly not something that a young lady did. Unless she was married – and Amelie knew that wasn't going to happen... at least, not how she would like it to happen.

Amelie sat up, thinking. There was no harm in trying – wasn't it Shakespeare who had said that it was better to have loved and lost then to have never loved as all?

She could still dream. She had that. It was worth it – it had to be. Even if it was only a dream.

When Raoul came into the dinning room the next morning, the only one there was Amelie.

"Good morning." Raoul went to the sideboard were the meal was laid out.

"Good morning. Did you rest well?"

"I did. Thank you." Raoul sat down. "Where is Pierre?"

"He and my father had to go do something down at the office. Something about livestock, I believe."

"Ah." Raoul scraped some jam across his toast. "I take it you rested well also?"

"Yes, thank you."

"I would have liked to have talked more with your brother, but I do need to get home and attend to matters there."

"I understand. It was nice having you stay." Raoul frowned slightly. The timidness was back in her voice. "I won't tell about last night, if that's what's scaring you."

"I didn't think you would. I... I told you last night, I'm not to good at things like this."

"I think you're doing remarkably well."

Amelie set her cup down and picked up her fork. "You're teasing me again, aren't you?"

"I'm sorry. I suppose I'm at a disadvantage myself."

"And how is that?"

"In that I have no idea what to talk with you about."

She laughed slightly. "Well, the same holds true for me and you."

"Good point. Your brother says you like to read. What else do you like to do?" Raoul took a sip of tea.

Amelie thought for a moment. "Well, I do enjoy riding. It's not something I get to do very often. I'm not allowed to go alone. I enjoy sketching more than I do needlepoint... The only time that's enjoyable is when it's to cold or to late to do anything out of doors. What do you like to do?"

Raoul smiled. "I also enjoy riding – when I have the time. Reading sadly, is something I find myself to busy to do sometimes. I take it you don't hunt."

Amelie laughed and then paused. "Actually, I've never thought of doing that. I don't even know if I would be allowed to do such a thing."

"If you could, would you?"

"I... I don't know. Do you like to hunt?"

"Occasionally. I haven't done it in some time."

"It's not the season for it. I know that." Amelie wiped her lips. She was starting to wonder why she had been so worried about making conversation at breakfast last night.

"May I ask you something?"

"Yes?" Amelie looked up.

"How did you get that bruise on your arm?" Raoul had no idea why he had asked her.

"Pardon?" Amelie knew that she went white. "What bruise?"

"That purple bruise on your left arm." Raoul had no idea why he was asking her about something that was probably nothing more than her running into a piece of furniture in the dark.

"I... it... It was an accident." Amelie couldn't look into Raoul's face.

"What sort of an accident?" Raoul could tell that some thing, or _someone _had done a good job of scaring her.

"I... .I... I don't know how to explain what happened..." Amelie slowly raised her eyes. "Just that I don't know if he... I mean..."

Raoul's fork clanged against the plate when he dropped it. "Is there more than one bruise, Amelie?"

Amelie covered her mouth, she knew that her eyes had covered over with tears. She shook her head violently.

Raoul stood and came over to Amelie's chair. "Don't cry. Please."

"I'm... I'm sorry..." She stood abruptly and ran from the room, leaving him alone.

Raoul swallowed and stared at the shut door for several minutes. Then he left the room. He stopped a passing servant and asked him to ready his horses to head back home. If there had been any chance of drawing out Pierre's plan, it had just been rendered non-existent.


End file.
